License of the Elderly

There was a waiting line for the lady at the desk, but he didn't seem to notice. He was too busy chatting with her, making small talk while she tapped at the keyboard. He seemed to be worried that his insurance premiums, since he paid for those premiums, would soon go up due to all those who don't pay for insurance receiving care. "Well, hopefully that won't happen," was all the lady behind the computer could think to say. "Mr. X---, take a seat and give this to the nurse when you get called." She handed him a printout and gestured toward the seats behind him.

He hobbled over to the chairs, one foot shuffling in front of the other, his age showing in his knees and back and legs. Grasping both armrests firmly, he eased himself into the seat and began waiting, his paper-like creased fingers intertwined.

Almost immediately, the door to the back room was opened and a young lady in a white lab coat looked up from her clipboard and called his name. He had chosen the seat directly adjacent to the door. He handed her the white sheet he was holding and then began the process of standing up. "I've been waitin there for half an hour," he smiled at the nurse with the mischievous grin of the elderly.

"Well you know what I think?" She pronounced I as aigh. "I think you're full of it." She had the smile and look in her eye of a young woman used to the flirting banter of older gentlemen. "I saw you checkin in..." And that was all I could hear before the door closed and they walked away.

Not Like Last Time

"Tyler, you want to see something classy?" she asked me eagerly.
"You know I do!" I replied, genuine in my excitement. She plunked her purse down on the barstool beside me and tipsily fumbled with the zipper. As she dug into the bag she explained further.
"So, I'm out of toilet paper at home, and rather than go to the store?" She tilted to bag towards me to reveal a familiar looking cylinder wrapped in paper with green writing. I laughed.
"No, that's hilarious," I told her.
"The other day at school there someone in the bathroom complaining about it being under lock and key. They were like 'what the hell, why would anyone steal toilet paper?' I just kept my mouth shut."

As we headed to the door the she turned to me. "I better not read about this on the blog."
I had to chuckle. "Don't worry," I assured her. "I won't use your name."

The Trick Is

If we're going to maintain our level of drinking, we have to come back like, three, four times a week.

Are we really going to be able to do that, now that you have a girlfriend?

See, my girlfriend is an undergrad; she's busy all the time.

Heh, you're right. Your girlfriend is an undergrad. I need to make fun of you for that more often.